With Golden Hands, One Can Always Afford The Choicest Delicacies
by Nosferatu's Cigarette Binge
Summary: Two Golds from different worlds run into each other at the law offices of Lockhart/Gardner.
1. What is Gold is worth Gold

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim any rights to the characters in this story.  
**Dedicated to:** My dearest darling Jonathan.  
**Note:** I know Mr. Gold (aka Rumpel) isn't supposed to leave Storybrooke but I'm just having fun.  
Based on the fact Rumple was Mary Margret's lawyer for a short time.

* The title is a Yiddish proverb.

* * *

**_Run for the shadows in these Golden_ _years_**

* * *

Eli kept his nose down, barely paying attention to his surroundings as he meandered the unchanging arteries of glass cells within Lockhart/Gardner. When finally he arrived at his vapid antechamber, he detached his eyes from his phone only to feel his knees give way; momentarily surprised to spot an exsanguinous man of depraved omnipresence situated behind his escritoire. In the man's hand endured the suffering, solitary rabbit from Eli's Chinese zodiac figure collection. The man contemplated the hare's indifferent mug before moving on to examine its fellow beastly kinsmen posed on the shelf before him.

Annoyed by the molestation of his resin armored fauna, Eli wished to burst in and snatch his beloved statuary from the man's bony fingers, but he constrained himself. It would be unwise to act so rashly. He needed to be certain the creäture was wholly foreign to him before confrontation. If he recalled the being's face as one belonging to a person of exceptional psychopathic tendencies he would take the necessary precautions.

In other words, he would run out the back door and read the newest tweets concerning the Florrick campaign until the man left.

Peering over his phone into his office, Eli concluded that the being was indeed unknown to him. However, he could not determine the disposition of the beast. The sphinxlike thing appeared both classy and revolting at the same time. T'would be wise to approach with caution,' was Eli's final decision.

The transient's nimble suit bore the guise of a funeral director, and this façade was furthered by the fact that he sported an elegant black cane, upon which he supported the weight of one side of his body. Behind the umber lenses of the ghoul's spectacles Eli glimpsed sunken brown eyes, the lids of which were dusted with a thin layer of grey eyeshadow. The man's second most noticeable feature, his mouth, remained fixed in a lined face framed in shoulder length russet hair.

Eli smirked approvingly before nodding his head. Foxy. What?! - as soon as he realized his thoughts he shook them from his head.

"Hello? Can I help you?" Eli asked impudently, left hand kept casually in pocket.

"Oh, hello. I require no assistance. I am a mere admirer of antiquities. I couldn't help but examine the few housed on this shelf a little closer." A smokey Scottish accent colored the man's words.

"Uh, are you a client of the firm?"

"No. I am with the opposing console."

"Ah, - what?" Eli did a double take. "ALICIA! CARY!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Would you mind stepping out of my office?" Eli asked as he ushered the man to the door. Eli's face was fitted into a tight grin, which could easily double as a grimace depending on how you looked at it.

"Your office? Oh, no need to worry. I meant no harm."

The man sauntered to the door but stopped beneath its frame - as if expecting mistletoe above - only to once again face the crisis manager behind him. Displaying his asperous teeth in a disheartening smile, he spoke, "though our meeting has been so brief it is all but to the point of non-existantance, I strangely feel as though I have found a kindred spirit in you through your taste in decorum alone Mr -" the man held out a hand for Eli to shake as he awaited his name.

"Gold. Eli Gold." Reluctantly, Eli intertwined his hand with that of the gloved stranger.

"Gold?! You don't say, that just so happens to be my name as well." The gold cap on one of his lower teeth reflected light as he spoke.

To this information, Eli could only raise an eyebrow.

"If ever you redecorate or simply desire a unique item with which to liven your household, you need look no further than my pawn shop. I have acquired many interesting items over the years. Several are truly one of a kind. I am certain you would find an essential to fit your needs in my rather _vast_ _inventory_."  
Mr. Gold handed Eli a business card. Without looking, Eli took it from his hand and tossed it on the desk behind him.

"Pawn Shop? I thought you were a lawyer?" Eli queried, arms crossed.

"Is it a crime for a man to have more than one occupation?"

"No. I simply wouldn't be able to find the time."

"Oh, time can easily be manipulated if you approach it the right way," Mr. Gold chuckled, flinging his hand over-enthusiastically before catching himself.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Mr. Gold hobbled over to Eli's desk to ensnare a glass paper-weight that resembled a crystal ball. He brought it to the window and held it to the face of the sun, hoping it might exude a minute ray of energy in the otherwise bleak enclosure; replenished by a kiss from aubade. He twisted and turned the little orb until a prismatic beam escaped from within its confines to rest upon Eli's shoulder.

"Are you having fun?" Eli asked, not amused in the least.

Mr. Gold laughed faintly before placing the bauble back on its wee coaster.

"Is your firm local?" Eli asked, trying to ignore what had just happened.

"No. I am from a far off distant land."

"And that's not vague at all..."

"If you hadn't tossed my card aside, you would know that both myself and my pawn shop are situated in Maine," Mr. Gold sighed.

"Far off distant land?" Eli raised his eyebrow again.

Mr. Gold shrugged.

Eli reached around, secured Mr. Gold's business card, and held it to the light to survey a small photo of the interior of Gold's shop.

"Oh yeah, never know when I might need a Mickey Mouse phone, they are pretty rare," he said sarcastically. "What's this say, Storybrooke Maine? Seriously? Tell me that's a joke. It sounds like the children's wing of a library, a subdivision... or a shopping plaza."

Mr. Gold coughed and changed the subject. "You display piano keys in the bowl beside your leather guest chairs. Do you play or simply like the aesthetic appeal of bastardized instruments?"

"I am a classically trained pianist," Eli answered.

"Oh really?! How very interesting. I am a music enthusiast myself. I find music to be a great comfort in times when there is nothing else to sooth the soul... I should love to hear you play."

Eli chuckled, his hands were once again in his jacket pockets. Ill at ease.

"Perhaps we could perform a concert for the many miscreants around here. They wouldn't know how to handle the culture shock," Mr. Gold jested.

"Don't you have a meeting with someone...?"


	2. Without Gold even the daylight is dark

_"To have Gold is to be in fear, and to want it to be sorrow."_

* * *

The Florrick Campaign, in the passage of three weeks had, without omission, devoured Eli's continuance, sanity and his revered office at Lockhart/Gardner.  
He felt what very little rational he had left was slowly vacating his skull, escaping, in a silvery thread, from his left ear to the floor to form a coiled 3-D effigy of the head of his candidate, Peter Florrick. Animated, it would speak his name as a mass it became whole. This hideous image drifted in and out of Eli's mind as he, in repulsion, stared at the sea of Florrick Campaign posters that wallpapered the democratic headquarters. God, what he would give to slap a little neon paint on a few of them. Perhaps pull a Warhol and smear some blue eyeshadow and red lipstick over Florrick's gob. Anything to spice the damn place up.

Several papers suddenly fell loose from the crisis manager's hands; and they, hovering momentarily in the darkened haze of his office, soon found themselves flowing with an invisible tide from the man's desk to a shallow pool of carpeting beyond his feet - and oh so conveniently out of reach. Closing his eyes, he ran his tongue over his upper teeth and suppressed an urge to lash out at inanimate objects.

Too lazy to lift his body from the frame of his chair, he, with his feet, wheeled his leather throne the few inches required to seek the renegade papers. As he strained his lightly tanned wrist towards the loose leaves, a ray of light pierced his eye; instantly causing a headache to take root.

Shielding his face as he searched for the cause of his anguish, his gaze soon came to rest on a small glistening spinning wheel beneath his window. Racked in its guilt; the golden wheel, situated on a table, soaked up rays from the sun like a gluttonous feline. It had, by man, been placed beneath the raised hoof of a horse statue to make it appear that the equine was engaging the instrument. Angered by the blunt mockery of his possessions, Eli left his chair, removed the spinning wheel and, with the air of an ill-tempered five-year old, cast it into the shadows whence it came. "NORA!" He yelled, pursing his lips.

Within seconds his assistant cowered to the entrance of the avocation. "Yes sir?"

"Who left this?!" He directed his nose to the floor. His hands clenched firmly to his sides, as he was not willing to dirty them with the removal of the item from where it lay on the ground.

Against her better judgement, Nora stepped into the office and peered over her overlord's desk. "I - I don't know. I don't recall seeing it."

"Well, it didn't just appear out of thin air! You know I don't want people wandering around my office!" He choked on the last word and acted as though he wished to continue speaking once he regained control, but, instead, he quickly swallowed and lowered his head before, in disgust, he flicked his wrist as a motion Nora was excused.

Nora stood in place as she mulled over the concept of defending herself, but wisely decided to seek the seclusion of her desk rather than renew the screams that already echoed through her mind in a constant loop.

Eli sighed and gently straightened the disturbed statuary, patting the dark horsey's metal noggin once he found its appearance acceptable. Searching the bare spot beneath its hoof, he spotted a tiny envelope whose sealant hadn't yet been employed. Inside he discovered a hand drawn map of Maine. It had been folded over many times, leaving it in the state rather like an accordion. Shaking his head in confusion, he studied the envelope, fearing he might spy the greasy fingerprints of Stacie Hall. When the back of the envelope faced him once more, he saw thick lettering where once there had been nothing.

_**Courtesy of:  
****Mr. Gold  
Pawnbroker  
Storybrooke, Maine**_

Eli dropped the card.

He had experienced one repeated nightmare of this 'Mr. Gold' on and off since their initial meeting. The dream always started with Eli discovering that utter wretchedness had broken loose within the campaign headquarters...

He stopped as vividly he remembered the dream he'd had last night.

_Eli stood alone before the chaos, his fingers deftly pulling out tufts of his graying hair as he watched insanity play out before him like a piece of theatre. The rooms were piceous, therefore the hellish fires erupting from the eyes and mouths of countless Peter Florrick posters supplied the only lighting in the joint. Files flew everywhere, smoke filled the air, everyone and everything seemed consumed by madness. Operatives and volunteers flayed about as if they had invisible wires attached to limbs. Running blindly, their screams followed as they disappeared to rooms out of sight. And Eli, no longer being able to handle it, looked frantically for the nearest exit. He ran through the many halls of Abaddon until he entered a room large enough to be a coliseum. In a darkened corner of this abyss stood the base of an immeasurably tall stack of copier paper. Smoke pooled at the base and the edges of the pages smouldered. Gazing at this 'tower' Eli soon spotted Mr. Gold perched atop - reminiscent of Saruman pacing the roof of Orthanc - looking completely unlike himself after a transformation into a hysterical, cackling Goblin. _

_Eli turned to leave, but his name brand shoes had affixed themselves to the floor and his body suddenly became immobilized.  
Mr. Gold tilted his head, sensing the fear register within his counterpart, and looked into Eli's eyes with unbridled insanity. He raised to his feet and began a spritely dance - which mainly consisted of high kicks that sent burning papers from under his heel clad feet and onto Eli's head. When Eli finally cried out, begging for an end, Mr. Gold dissipated into a red cloud of smoke and reappeared dangerously close before Eli. Bowing, he blew him a kiss, and thus allowed his departure. _

Coughing as he recalled the dream, Eli rifled through his desk until he found Mr. Gold's business card. After locating the number to his shop, he dialed and let the phone ring until he reached an answering machine. _"Hello, you've reached Mr. Gold. Please leave your name and number and I might get back to you... Then again, I might not. All depends on who you are."_

"Listen you sick son of a bitch, I don't appreciate your little 'gift'. I don't know if you noticed or not, BUT I KNOW A LOT OF LAWYERS! I'll sue your ass off if you step even a little out of line." Jim Moody entered the room and Eli hurriedly ended the call with a flourish.

_"f I only had a dollar for each time I've entered this room to hear the word ass, _Moody thought.

* * *

Later that night.

* * *

Eli assumed his subconscious would gift him with the same aforementioned dream he had known on and off for the past month. But, as he eased into sleep, he found himself elsewhere.

_Somewhere unknown... walking... barefoot through dampened sand along a shoreline. Waves washed over his ankles, and, where before a trail of footprints had followed in the sand behind him there now lay seemingly untouched sand. In casual garb - cranberry trousers rolled to his mid-calf, a black sweater loosely hanging on his frame and his hair left loose - he, like Mr. Gold, appeared transformed. Only Eli was the opposite of the imp with golden flecks in his skin; he had turned into a human._

_The morning sun painted the sky a neon pink, tinged with blue at the edge of the land. There were no clouds, the only shadows came from the seagulls that circled above as wind flipped them this way and that._

_Eli looked to the waves as they lapped against one another and inhaled the warm sea air. He stood this way at length until his legs grew weary. Moving to dry land he decided to take rest amid a family of trees. Finally laying down; happy to be away from Lockhart/Gardner, from the Campaign... from everything. His mind free of stress... he could easily drift away..._

_Suddenly, a ghostly wave of music ignited in the distance and he, in his delirium, raised to meet it._

_On a dock overlooking the water stood Mr. Gold. In a trance-like state, he gently played a violin in the crook of his arm for an audience of no one, save the voices in his head. Perplexed, Eli watched until the Goblin turned, and he - seeing that Eli returned his gaze - hobbled off into the seclusion of a nearby forest. Eli began to follow him until he felt a hand grip his arm. In surprise, he looked over his shoulder and was met by a stranger. A young woman who had striking blue eyes and wavy brunette hair. "Please come back, we need you," she pleaded before he woke._


End file.
